Fallen Soldier
by Bebedora
Summary: Raine Leonhart sure did care a lot. Sometimes, she wondered why, especially when it meant blood on her bedsheets. Whumptober Day 10-UNCONSCIOUS


Fallen Soldier

[[Whumptober prompt—UNCONSCIOUS]]

He didn't look like much, laying there out cold in the back of the truck.

Battered, broken, stinking of seawater and blood. Galbadian army uniform, shredded. Gravel peppering his hair, embedded in exposed skin. Legs shattered, pelvis probably the same. She'd more than likely have to wipe his ass for him. If he even survived.

Raine Leonhart scowled as she took in the pitiful sight. She abhorred getting bloodstains out of linens. And now, the bedsheets would definitely be ruined.

All because of this fallen soldier.

She stared at the stained tag stitched to the front of his uniform.

Loire.

What a stupid name.

_Why do I always have to care? _

"Bring him inside."

xxxxxx

Cleaned up, he at least looked a little more human.

A little.

Dozens of bruises, already yellowing at the edges. The remnants of dried blood crusted in his left nostril. Right eye swollen shut. Shallow breaths, no doubt caused by his shattered ribs. It was probably a good thing he was down for the count. She didn't know if _she'd_ be able to endure all the pain that surely came along with the injuries.

Raine sat on the edge of the bed, admiring her handiwork. Not once, during the entire ordeal, did Loire stir.

Several neat lines of fresh stitches. A pristine white bandage wrapped around his head, only a small splotch of scarlet seeping through the fibers. Splints on both his legs. Thankfully, the doctor didn't think his pelvis was shattered, only a few small fractures that would heal over time. It wasn't like he was going anywhere anytime soon.

She found herself unconsciously reaching out a hand and laying it on his foot. He was warm, even through the thin sheet. His big toe twitched, but he did not wake up.

Raine found herself wondering about this mystery man.

What was he like? Kind? Stern? Did he enjoy killing, or was he a closet pacifist, only joining up because of some underlying sense of duty to his country? Was Galbadia even his country? What if he was conscripted by force—something the Galbadians had been known to do in times of great strife. Why had he been found alone? Did he desert? Kill his commanding officer? Maybe the Estharians were using him as a double agent. She briefly considered calling the military authorities. But then again, they'd swarm their small town, and they weren't exactly welcome.

Raine internally admonished herself. None of this would do either of them any good. He was here to stay, at least until his injuries healed enough to be moved somewhere else in town. And as long as he was bedridden—if he truly was a menace—he couldn't move to act on any violent impulses anyway.

Still, she reminded herself to lock his rifle up in the garage.

He stirred, a pitiful moan tumbling from dry, cracked lips. The sun had done a number on him as he lay exposed on the shore. Loire looked so small and helpless. Certainly not the hallmark of a battle-hardened soldier. But somehow—she knew that wasn't him. Deep down.

Raine rose from the end of the bed, dipped a clean cloth in cool water, and wiped it across his cheeks. Fever was taking hold. Probably infection. He had certainly had enough open wounds for it when he arrived on her doorstep. No wonder he was so sick.

There was no way to get any pain meds into him until he woke up. She actually felt bad about that, even though the mattress would have to be trashed once he recovered. Blood that deep into the fibers would never come out.

Loire calmed, a few incoherent mumbles bubbling up as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Raine wrung out the cloth into a bowl at the bedside. Stealing a glance at the clock on the wall, she realized it was almost time to put Ellone to bed. The nice lady down the street was sitting with her downstairs in the pub, probably feeding her cake. It would take hours to get her to sleep.

Raine sighed.

Two children to take care of.

She hoped the larger of the two wasn't prone to temper tantrums like his smaller counterpart.

As she tiptoed down the stairs, Raine took one last look at the unconscious soldier in her bed and wondered what color his eyes were.

_Every single one of these Whumptober prompts that I *should not be* writing because I have a book deadline is Saber_Wing's fault. Also, she's an awesome beta. _


End file.
